Hidden
by Julianna Graham
Summary: What happens when your life is based on a lie? What happens when your life-long enemies are now your family? Who can be trusted when everyone is a liar? Agent Jaden Korr must find her place in a world that she never knew she was a part of. When everything is hidden, where can one's true self be found?
1. Co-operation

_**Hello reader, thanks for stopping by!**_

_**If you feel like you recognize this story from somewhere else, you may have read my first go at this about 10 years ago. This is a re-write of Agent Jaden Korr, which I stalled on a number of years ago. I've been re-working it and hope that I can keep the momentum going on it this time. Feel free to check out my original story, but I will be actively working on this version. Some parts may be the same, while other parts are updated.**_

_**Please give me some feedback in the reviews if there's something you like or would like to see changed!**_

_**~Julianna**_

James almost pitied them. Almost. The two proud Agents before him were terrified, although they tried desperately to disguise it. The woman's mouth was bloody. The man's left eye was swelling shut. They both had their arms secured to their chairs. Their hands were mangled with broken fingers and missing fingernails. Their futures were once bright, but had recently become rather limited, and would shorten exponentially depending on their answers to his next questions.

"Are you intending on co-operating now?" James asked, seating himself on the table that was placed in front of the prisoners, disregarding the chair on the opposite side of the table from them. He smiled at them. It wasn't a particularly nice smile, for all of his attractive features. The expression was full of malice and contempt. James wasn't a particularly nice man. He protected those he felt he should protect, and fought for those that he chose to. The prisoners were not among those people.

The female Agent stared back at him unflinchingly. The male Agent nodded furiously. James was disgusted. For all his bravado, the male Agent was weak and cowardly, while his partner had steel in her spine. James admired her, and almost felt sorry for her. He almost regretted having to eventually kill her. Almost.

"What do you want from us?" the female Agent asked. Her voice almost didn't tremble. She was afraid; James could smell it, but she was heroically hiding it. James decided he liked her in his own fashion.

"We want you to answer some questions for us, that's all," James replied smoothly. He smiled again, showing most of his very white teeth. The scent of fear in the room drastically increased. James could nearly start a count-down for when the male Agent would wet himself. The tension in the room was effecting one of the room's other occupants.

The others in the room were both Vampires. James Sired the female Vampire, and she had Sired the other male Vampire. It was this other male who was being affected by the brutality of the interrogation. This was his first interrogation. He was unconcerned with the violence of it; he had been living a violent life long before he became a Vampire. The fresh blood however, combined with the scent of fear saturating the room, was testing his limited control. For Andrew, being exposed to fresh blood and being unable to enjoy it was a rather new concept. Vanessa, his Sire, for all appearances, was unmoved and bored.

James heard Andrew shuffle his feet. When he glanced at him over his shoulder, he observed the boy gazing hungrily at the Agents. James caught the boy's eye and raised a dark eyebrow. Andrew flinched slightly in embarrassment and tilted his head back, running a hand through his dark blond hair, sighing gustily. He smoothed his features once more into an emotionless mask and returned his gaze to James, mimicking his eyebrow-quirk. James grinned. He liked the boy.

"Tell me, Agent Dawson," James said, turning back to his prisoners, "How many years have you been an Agent?" The woman was assessing the question, trying to find the trap in it.

"I became an Interim Agent when I was seventeen," she replied evenly. "I was twenty-one when I became a Junior Agent, and a Senior Agent at twenty-six. I became a Senior Agent fifteen years ago. Thirteen years ago, I took my first Interim Agent apprentice. "

James nodded genially. "Twenty-four years is a long career," he acknowledged. "And how about you?" he asked the trembling young man.

The boy opened his mouth to reply, but Agent Dawson overrode him. "Interim Agent Simmons has been my apprentice for eighteen months. He is nineteen. He has no knowledge of classified information, besides what any Interim Agent would know. He is of no value to you," she added, squarely meeting James' eyes.

"And what would you suggest we do with him, Senior Agent Dawson?" James asked mockingly.

"Release him," she replied instantly.

James grinned cruelly. "If I gave you the choice of who would walk out of here, you or him, who would you choose?" he asked, already knowing she'd ask to save the boy. The boy stared at her with wide, terrified eyes.

"It doesn't matter whom I choose," Agent Dawson replied coldly. "If I tell you to spare my apprentice, you will have your rabid Newborn twitching back there maul him," she jerked her head at Andrew, disgust colouring her tone. "If I ask you to spare me, you'll kill me for the audacity of asking for my own life. Either way, I lose. So get it over with," she challenged, "or let us go. Ask your questions and do away with us. I don't value my life enough to pollute myself with your presence, even if it hastens when my last moments will be." She spat blood on the floor and thrust her chin out defiantly, meeting James' eyes rebelliously. Agent Simmons began to sob.

James smiled into Agent Dawson's furious face. Despite his loathing of all Agents, he admired the feisty woman. She was literally staring death in the face, and she had yet to flinch. "Vanessa," James ordered, not breaking eye contact with Agent Dawson, "untie Interim Agent Simmons." Mutely, Vanessa did as she was told. Simmons sat stiffly in his chair, his swollen red eyes darting about the room. "I propose a contest," James said. "Your two year old Agent versus my two year old Vampire. If your boy wins, he walks out of here. If my boy wins, yours doesn't," he concluded simply. He smiled, "The contest starts now."

Andrew lunged as Simmons tumbled out of his chair, screaming, "Karla!" Simmons managed to avoid the initial attack, but Andrew grabbed his mangled hand, bringing him to his knees with a shriek of pain. Andrew seized Simmons by the throat and slammed him against the wall. Simmons tried to elbow Andrew in the head, but Andrew ducked under the blow and delivered a bone crushing punch to Simmons' ribs. The young Agent gasped and jerked, inadvertently baring his neck, giving young Vampire perfect access to the thick veins and arteries of the throat. Andrew plunged his fangs into the young man's flesh, opening a fatal wound.

Agent Dawson watched stone faced, tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks. She clenched her teeth to keep her lips from trembling. She watched every second of the torturous death of her student and refused to let her captors see how terrified she was. She was a Senior Agent of the Organization, and she would not grant scum the satisfaction of seeing her beg for her life, even if it was what she wanted.

James looked mockingly from Dawson to the dying boy, then back again. "Your boy didn't do very well," he commented, with the same tone one uses when their disagreed upon prediction of rain has been validated.

Dawson met his eyes boldly, tearing them away from her dead student. "You have to admit," she said coldly, "he was at a distinct disadvantage. Your contest wasn't exactly fair."

James grinned. "All is fair in love and war," he quoted in a sing-song voice. "It is hardly my fault if you brought the boy out into the world so ill prepared for what awaited him." He learned forward in mock seriousness, "I'm sure he had a bright future ahead of him." Dawson's face contorted with rage, and she spat in James' face. She would have punched him, had she not been restrained.

James laughed as he wiped his chin of spittle. "You know," he said, leaning forward, placing his hand on Dawson's, "I must say, I'm starting to like you, Agent Dawson." He squeezed her hand lightly, she winced as it shifted broken bones. "You have a certain," he paused, searching for the words, his grip slowly tightening on her hand, "_bravado_ that sets you apart, if you know what I mean. I think," the pressure on Dawson's hand was now enough that she started to whimper quietly, "that I should Turn you, just for the fun of having more conversations like this one. What do you think?"

Dawson screamed as James suddenly squeezed her hand with all of his strength, crushing the already damaged bones, mangling the already injured hand.

"What do you think, Karla?" James asked sweetly, still crushing her hand.

Dawson's face was contorted with agony, her mouth open in a silent scream. With a massive force of will, she clenched her teeth to regain enough control to grind out, "I'd rather die, thank you very much."

James leaned in close enough that he could have kissed her, had he moved a few inches closer. "That can also be arranged," he whispered. "All you need to do is answer a question, and I'll end all of this for you."

Dawson's eyes forced themselves open, and they burned into James'. "Then ask your damn question," she snarled through gritted teeth, "and go straight to hell!"

James smile widened, showing his four fangs menacingly. "I'll be sure to take you with me when I decide to go," he promised. Abruptly he moved about the table he'd been perched upon and sat in the chair opposite Dawson. He pressed a button on the table's touch-pad and an image appeared in the air between them. It was a simple picture, taken many years previous, of a young pregnant woman, captured mid-sentence as she spoke to a person out of frame. She was walking down a busy street, surrounded by people, her very pregnant belly allowing her a wide berth by passers-by. The wind had evidently picked up at the moment the image was captured, because her gauzy dress was streaming behind her, plastered to her body, accentuating her swollen stomach. James pressed another button and the picture changed slightly. It was of the same woman, likely seconds later, but her companion was now visible. "Who is the woman, Karla?" James asked. "Who is she?"

Dawson stared evenly at James and replied, "It's me. I haven't changed that much." She wasn't lying in the least. She was the companion of the pregnant woman. The shot was more than twenty years old.

James was however frustrated with her uninformative answer. He strode around the table, seized Dawson by the back of the head and slammed her forehead into the table. He wrenched her upright by her hair and snarled, "Of course it's you, you stupid bitch. Who is the _other_ woman?"

Dawson laughed weakly, blood bubbling on her lips as it streamed from her broken nose. "You know," she chuckled, "I taught interrogation techniques at the Academy. Causing head injuries are not the most effective tools when interrogating one's subjects. It can sometimes make the subject forget the questions, or even the answers." She cried out as James viciously jerked her head back by her hair.

"Who is she?" James asked again, bending over her with his fangs bared. "Tell me now, and I'll end it quickly. The longer you make me wait, the longer you'll have to wait. I may only be able to kill you once, but that could take a _long_ time." He suddenly released her head and knelt next to her. "Who is she, Karla?" he cooed sweetly.

Dawson began to laugh in earnest. She threw her head back and let it wrack her body with its spasms, despite how much it hurt her. "You mean to tell me," she managed to burst out, once the laughter subsided, "that you've killed my student, and will kill me, because you have an old picture of me having coffee with my friend twenty years ago?" She laughed again. "You must be getting bored in your old age, James," she chortled. "What's wrong? Slaughtering babies doesn't hold the appeal anymore? How is it that you can afford to waste all this time and energy on a picture? Is Tsar unhappy with someone, and so you have a lot of extra time on your hands?"

"Who is she?" James asked once more. "I won't ask you again. Refuse me and I Turn you."

Dawson instantly sobered. He could threaten her with death or torture. She could handle those. She couldn't handle him Turning her. It was something he could so easily do, and then he would worse than kill her – he'd make her like him. She closed her eyes in defeat. She would do anything to avoid that fate, and James knew it. "How don't you know who she is?" she asked, stalling the inevitable.

"Because she was a civilian, and therefore we didn't monitor her," James replied, his patience wearing thin. "Answer the question Agent Dawson," he ordered.

Senior Agent Karla Dawson, a twenty-four year veteran of The Organization, cursed herself for her fear of the Turn, cursed her weakness at not being able to withstand that particular threat, and cursed herself for betraying her friend. "Her name is Elizabeth Korr, she was married to Chief Commander Nathaniel Korr," she said in a dead voice. "But they're both dead, so what does it matter?" she asked desperately.

"Was the child carried to term?" James asked, ignoring Dawson's question.

"Yes."

"What is its name?" he asked, managing to keep the anticipation out of his voice. At last, he'd have a name!

"Jaden," Dawson replied, hating herself with every traitorous breath. "Her name is Jaden Elizabeth Korr. She's a Junior Agent now."

"Lovely," James cooed, gently patting Dawson's hand, earning a wince. "Simply lovely." He stood and moved behind her. "Thank you for your co-operation, Karla. Your services were much appreciated." He maliciously smiled as he watched her shoulders hunch under the weight of her shame. He let the damning sentence hand in the air before he gripped her chin and pulled her head back, sinking his fangs into her exposed throat.

Dawson stiffened and gurgled as she clung onto life, but James was draining her fast enough that she lost consciousness quickly. Before she was dead however, James pulled away. He deftly cut the palm of his hand with a fang and let a few drops of blood fall into Dawson's open mouth. He also rubbed some over the gash at her throat, which instantly sealed.

"Take her out and see to it that she is found by the right people," James ordered, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as he turned and walked from the room, a triumphant smile on his lips.

_**Thank you for starting my story again with me! I hope you enjoy what's to come!**_

_**~Julianna**_


	2. Where is she?

When she awoke she thought she was still dreaming, because she could taste blood. Evidently she had bitten her lip while sleeping, allowing blood to pool in her mouth. She was confused and disturbed as she at upright, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She wiped her chin with her wrist and checked the pillow to see if any blood had stained it. There was a tiny spot, so with a frustrated sigh she pulled the pillow case off and threw it in the laundry basket in the corner of the room. Groggily she hauled herself into a standing position and stumbled to the bathroom. A cursory glance in the mirror showed no major injury to her lip, just a slightly swollen spot. _Good_, she thought, _don't want people to think I'm getting sloppy and being beaten_.

Climbing in the shower confirmed that she was, in fact, awake. The process was helped by the thirty second blast of icy water that always began the showering process, as the apartment complex's many other tenants tried to turn on their showers around the same time. Eventually the water would get hot enough that it didn't feel like torture. She liked that initial blast though, however much it annoyed her. It instantly woke one up, bursting the mind into clarity.

Once her shivering subsided, she pondered her dream as she began to lather her hair. If she described it to anyone, it would be a nightmare. It was hellish and dark, there was blood everywhere and people were screaming. But she wasn't afraid in the dream, and now that she was awake, she was very much afraid of _that_. She was sickened with herself, because in the dream, she was aroused and relishing in that hell. After rinsing the shampoo from her hair, she scrubbed her skin as hard as she could, trying to wash away the feeling of being so dirty. She was, at least, very clean by the end of her shower.

Wrapped in a towel, she wandered through her bedroom and into the kitchen, flipping on the coffee pot on the way to the fridge. She was awake and out of the shower more than an hour earlier than she needed to be, but she didn't want to go back to bed. She didn't want the dream to continue. Unfortunately, due to the early hour, she wasn't anywhere close to hungry. The meal she'd eaten before falling into bed still seemed filling, but to not eat now was foolish. She had a long shift ahead of her, and being hungry would just make it interminable.

She could hear the Agent who lived above her thump about his kitchen. He was often up this early, though she never understood why. Normally she didn't care, but his loud footsteps were grating on her already raw nerves, and she wanted to throw something at the ceiling to shut him up. He knew she worked the same shift, and he knew that this was early in _their_ day, despite the hour. She glanced at the clock on the coffee pot. It read 3:17 PM. _Fuck it's going to be a long night_, she cursed silently.

As a Junior Agent of The Organization, assigned to the Night Shift, life was quite uncertain. She was given the small apartment free of charge. She had access to health care facilities at any hour of the day or night, provided she wasn't neglecting any of her duties. She received a generous allowance, which she was able to save up to buy the things she wanted. Necessary things such as food, clothing and hygiene products were provided for her, free of cost. Life outside her job was orderly and, ultimately, taken care of by someone else. However, her job was what made things uncertain. It was very dangerous to be a Junior Agent on the Night Shift.

The Organization was founded four hundred years prior, when Vampires began their war for supremacy over humans. In the time before The Rise, as the aggressive appearance of Vampires was referred to, there was a massive population crisis. Countries were expanding their borders, over-lapping each other, with provinces and states demanding their own sovereignty. The world was on the brink of war. Massive cities began to take over country-sides, drawing most of the population for hundreds of kilometres around them. Eventually, the countries of the world consolidated into city-states, massive expanses of urban sprawl, housing populations of hundreds of millions. The Organization was a branch of a country's military that was kept together when the city-state was formed. Then, it was more like a police force than a military unit. When The Rise happened however, The Organization overthrew the fledgling Vampire government that had tried to establish itself within their city. They drove the Vampires from the city and began campaigning in other cities. Presently, there were more cities under the control of The Organization than there were cities under the control of one of the Vampire Leagues. There were only a few cities that had no presence of The Organization, but it wasn't through lack of trying. The Vampires were simply too entrenched there to be removed. There were also cities deadlocked for control. Neither side had an upper-hand, and thus, to be openly on either side of the fight was highly dangerous.

The upstairs Agent dropped something, which shattered. The downstairs Agent glared at the ceiling. She was going to kill him. _"Agent, why did you beat Senior Agent Reynolds with a coffee mug?_" she imagined her interrogator asking. _"Well, Senior Agent," _she imagined her response, _"He was slamming about and breaking shit at an ungodly hour. I think I was entirely justified. If one refers to Section 1.374 in the Handbook, under Personal Decorum of Agents…"_ Her thoughts trailed off as she smiled at her own joke. Section 1.374 said that Agents were not permitted to have sex on the job. Section 1.375 said that if Agents wanted to have a "relationship of intimacy with another Agent, that Agent may not be of the same Partnership, of un-equal rank, or be brought into the relationship under guises other than romantic interest, be that financial incentive or tactics of intimidation…" Using Section 1.374 as a defense for killing Agent Upstairs would be rather pointless, and would probably just make her look stupid.

She looked at the coffee-pot clock. 3:31 PM. She quietly groaned and poured more coffee. She had to leave for her shift in one hundred and five minutes. Actually, one hundred and four minutes. It was the 28th of October. Her week was going to go rapidly downhill. October 31st was the worst night of the year for The Organization. The Vampires seemed to believe that the day was somehow more special than the day previous and the day following. They were never very clear on the specifics of why. Because they operated at night, the night of the 30th was as awful as the next night. The Vampires were exceedingly active from midnight to midnight on the 31st. The popular theory was that the Vampires were just fucking with everyone, and celebrating another year that they were out in the open, waging their bloody war on the humans. The Rise had occurred on October 31st.

Bored, the young woman tapped her table-top computer, bringing it to life. She logged in and began scanning the civilian news bulletins. There was nothing exceedingly out of the ordinary. There were more deaths, more death threats, and more mutilations. Sighing, she logged off the civilian pages and logged into the information database available to Agents. It held news articles that were too graphic or controversial to be published, confidential reports on movements of the Vampire Leagues within and outside the city, a list of obituaries that was updated daily, among other things. She checked the obituary list on a daily basis. She wanted to know firsthand if a friend had died. No one she knew had died in the previous 24 hours. She nearly signed off the page when she noticed someone's name. Interim Agent Simmons, Leonard, age nineteen. Frantically she opened the link and read.

_Interim Agent Leonard Marcus Simmons (age 19) went missing with his Mentor (Senior Agent K. Dawson) on the night of October 23__rd__. His body was recovered on the night of October 26__th__. He was found with major wounds to his neck and ribcage, as well as injury to his hands and face, indicative of interrogative torture. His body was found within territory of the League of Nichelle, and it is likely that he was killed on the night of October 23__rd__.  
Cause of death: exsanguination due to Vampire inflicted wounds of the neck._

The young woman's eyes were wide with fear as she feverishly scanned the list for Dawson's name. It wasn't there. She next checked the list naming Agents that were missing. Her name wasn't there either. Then, dreading the worst, she checked the list of names of Agents that were hospitalized and quarantined. She found it there. The young woman was devastated. Karla Dawson had been a friend of the girl's parents and was her godmother. Dawson had taught her at the Academy and would have been her mentor had Dawson been free. If she was quarantined, then it meant that she had been bitten and had lived. If she was quarantined, The Organization was waiting to see if she had been Turned. If she had been Turned, then she was as good as dead. The young woman wanted to cry. She suddenly resolved to go see Dawson.

Throwing her cold coffee down the drain, she left her mug in the sink and dashed into her bedroom to change, a piece of toast forgotten on the table. The Junior Agent pulled on civilian clothing and packed her uniform into a backpack. Her body armour was in her locker at Headquarters, and wandering around in uniform without it was a stupid way to get killed. Vampires may not be active in the day, but their human minions were. She was dressed and locking her door within five minutes.

She raced to the transit station, barely making the shuttle. It was mostly empty at this time of day, with only a few civilians on board. Most were still at work. Day Shift Agents were still on shift for another two hours and Night Shift workers wouldn't start transit for another hour or so. The shuttle took fifteen minutes to arrive at Headquarters. The young woman raced through the grounds to the hospital. She barged up to the counter and barked at the receptionist, "Where is Senior Agent Karla Dawson?"

The receptionist, a heavy-set red head wearing enough make-up to age her an extra few years raised a penciled eye-brow, looking down her long nose at the bossy young woman in front of her. "May I see some identification, please?" she asked snootily .

The Junior Agent glared at her and dug her access card out of her backpack. She thrust it across the counter at the receptionist. "Where is Senior Agent Dawson?" she repeated, politer this time.

The receptionist was making a big show of checking the other woman's credentials on the computer, and was thus ignoring her. She smiled sweetly, showing yellow teeth and replied, "Unfortunately you don't have the clearance to see her. She is in Level Three Quarantine. No visitors below officer rank are permitted, Junior Agent Korr."

"She is my godmother," Korr begged, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice, "please, I won't tell anyone." She sounded weak. At the moment, she didn't care.

The receptionist softened. "I'm sorry Junior Agent," she said sincerely. "No one can see her." As she handed back the access card, she gripped the younger woman's hand and kindly said, "It'll be alright, she's with the best doctors at Headquarters. If they're doing all they can for her. And if it turns out for the worst, they are very humane in the treatment of those who have been infected."

Upon hearing her godmother be referred to as being infected, Korr jerked her hand away, clutching her access card. "Thank you for your time," she muttered before trudging out. When she reached the steps outside the entrance, she sat down heavily, put her head in her hands and fought back the sob that was building in the back of her throat. Dawson was as good as dead. If she was in Level Three Quarantine, it meant that she was as good as Turned, and they were just waiting to see if there was a chance she hadn't. The odds of checking out of Level Three Quarantine were about one person in twenty. If she had been Turned, the doctors would euthanize her. Korr jerked violently when a hand touched her shoulder.

"Jaden," the man asked, sitting down next to her, "What is it?"

Korr sniffed and wiped her eyes. "Karla Dawson is in L3Q," she said thickly.

"Dawson," the man repeated. "She's a friend of your mom, isn't she?" Korr nodded. "Oh Jaden, I'm so sorry," he murmured, slinging his arm around her shoulders.

Jaden Korr threw her arms around him and squeezed as she tried to reign in the torrent of emotion that threatened to burst through. Her mother died in childbirth, her father was murdered a few years prior, and now her godmother was quarantined. She felt so alone.

After a few minutes, she regained control of herself. "Thanks Adam," she mumbled lamely, "Sorry. I must be keeping you from work." Adam was an intern doctor at the hospital. He had attended the same primary school as Jaden, and they had remained friends when he went to the civilian schools to become a doctor instead of to the Academy to become an Agent.

Adam had arrived twenty minutes early for his shift, thus he waved off her apology. "Do you need to take the night off?" he asked, going into doctor mode. He was concerned about his friend. Agents that went out emotional often came back dead or worse.

Jaden shook her head. "I'll be fine," she assured him. "I'll walk back over to the Main Compound, and I'll be alright by then."

"Are you certain?" he asked, watching her for signs of hysteria or catatonia.

"Yeah," Jaden replied tiredly. "I think the best thing for me right now is to do my job. That's what Karla would want. And that's what she would have done."

"If you insist," Adam replied warily. "Can you do me a favour?" Jaden nodded. "Come back and see me at the end of the night. I want to make sure you're ok. Alright?"

Jaden smiled wearily. "If you insist," she echoed. She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. "Thank you, Adam. I'll see you later." Adam hugged her and wished her a good shift before getting to his feet, brushing off his backside and walking inside. Jaden mimicked the action, but instead walked down the stairs and towards the Main Compound, aiming for the locker-rooms.


	3. Muster

It took her twenty minutes to reach the women's locker-room, and, as she had assured Adam, she was calm by the time she reached it. By then she was only about half an hour early for her shift, and others were starting to straggle in. She accessed her locker by leaning her head against it, resting her hand on the fingerprint ID pad, and mumbling a pathetic "Jaden Korr". The door swung open; she stripped to her underwear and began to pull on her under-armour. The under-armour had become more of a necessity of late – the League of Danall was expanding its territory again, and they often used weapons that would kill a human if it could reach the skin. The under-armour consisted of a material similar to Kevlar, which was more breathable and fit like a second skin. It protected the wearer's body from heat, cold, electric shock and would dissipate some of the force of an impact, such as a fall or a blow from a Vampire. It looked merely like a pair of leggings and a shirt with quarter-length sleeves, but it had saved Jaden's life more than a few times, so she made sure to wear it every single day, unlike some of her colleagues. Once she'd donned the layer of under-armour, she began to wrestle the over layer of protective gear, which consisted of: a bullet proof and laser resistant padded vest; a utility belt that had its pockets full with grenades, various poisons and antidotes, an ultra-violet ray gun known as a sunburst, a small handgun and cartages, and a small first aid kit; a communication ear piece; a watch that tucked its way under her gloves, serving as both a time piece and a controller for the communicator; and a neck brace of sorts. The brace had the dual purpose of having built in microphones for the communicator, so the wearer could either speak into the watch or into the brace, as well as serving as protection against vampires who got too close. To Jaden, wearing her armour was like receiving a big protective hug. It evened the playing field between her and her enemies a little bit.

Vampires used to be a story. Vampires used to be a figment of the imagination. People used to wear pretend fangs made of glow in the dark plastic and paint fake blood on their necks and go to parties. Vampires in the present day were hardly the topic of fun and games. With four razor sharp fangs in their upper jaw, immense strength and super-human agility, they were at a distinct advantage over the Agents who battled them.

Agent Jaden Korr was twenty years old, slender and athletic, and of average height. She had chocolate brown eyes and brown hair that had highlights of gold and red that appeared in the sunshine. Because she was mostly active at night, they weren't often seen. When her hair was loose, it hung to her mid-back, but more often than not it was tightly braided and knotted at the base of her neck. Female Agents were encouraged to wear their hair short so that their enemies would have less to grab onto, but Jaden had become adept at withstanding brutal hair-pulling, so she didn't concern herself overly. She wasn't as imposing as some of the other female Agents were, but they were also twice her age. If she lived that long, she figured she'd be as imposing as they were.

She had been made Junior Agent eight months previously. It had caused some controversy. She was about two years younger than the average age of other Interim Agents promoted to Junior Agent status. But Jaden had earned it. She had passed the tests, the same as anybody. She had also entered the Academy younger than most of her classmates, and had advanced through the classes a year faster than those she started out with, thus she graduated earlier. She was an Interim Agent before some of her first-year mates had graduated. She made Junior Agent before they became Interim Agents. People whispered that she only advanced as she did because her father was Chief Commander at the time. Maybe it was the case, but not to Jaden. She had earned it fairly in her own mind, and that was how she was going to accept her promotions. Besides, there were those who were younger than her who were promoted faster. There weren't any from her graduating year, but she wasn't the first Junior Agent who was younger than new Interim Agents.

By the time she was completely armoured, most of the other Agents on Night Shift were arriving, and she had to surrender her spot on the bench for others to change. Jaden wandered out of the locker-room, greeting those Agents she was friends with, ignoring those with whom she wasn't. She joined the prepared Agents in the muster room, awaiting the Shift Commander's arrival with their assignments for the night. The previous night, Jaden had been working with her former mentor, Senior Agent Thomas Green, or Tom, as he insisted she call him. She quietly hoped that she would be working with him again. She wanted someone she could trust implicitly to watch her back tonight. Despite her assurances to Adam, she was off her game tonight, she could feel it already.

As if her wish for him summoned him, Agent Green appeared at her elbow. He was just over average height for a man, with sandy brown hair and hazel eyes. His most common facial expression was a smile. "Hey kiddo," he said brightly, grinning cheekily. He clapped her on the back in a friendly manner. When he saw the half-hearted nature of Jaden's returning smile, he sobered instantly. "What's wrong Jaden?"

Jaden took a deep, steadying breath. "I found out this afternoon that Karla Dawson is L3Q," she told him. "It doesn't look good."

"Shit," Green swore quietly. He pulled her to him in a brotherly embrace. "I'm so sorry, kiddo," he said into the top of her head, squeezing her. Jaden clung to the comfort for only a moment. Green, as her former Interim Agent Mentor (IAM), had been there for her when her father was killed, and he knew better than anyone that she wouldn't want a scene caused by her grief, but a moment of consolation was needed. He pulled back before anyone around them paid mind to their actions and looked her dead in the face, searching in her eyes for the answers he needed, "Are you going to be ok?" Jaden swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, brushing an unfallen tear from the corner of her eye. "Are you sure?" he prodded.

"Yes, Tom," she said, her sadness making her sound peevish. "I'll be fine." While their exchange was going on, a young man had walked up to the pair. He was slightly taller than Green, with dark hair shaved down to stubble, blue eyes, and a serious face. Jaden frowned and looked at him. The room was fairly empty, so he had a purpose for approaching.

Tom glanced at him when he got close enough, and smiled at the younger man in a friendly manner. "Hi there Olson," he said, shaking the young man's hand. "Jaden," he prompted, "This is my new student, Interim Agent Nicholas Olson; Olson, this is my former student Junior Agent Korr."

"Hi," Olson said, shaking Jaden's hand. "Call me Nick, everyone does." He smiled, but it was one much like Jaden's, it never reached his eyes.

"Jaden," she offered, nodding and smiling politely. "I didn't know Agent Green had become an IAM again," she admitted, a little confused. "You didn't say anything last night, when we were on shift together," she added, raising a brow at Green.

"This is a new development," Green replied. "Nick's training was interrupted, and he's returning to the field tonight." Green looked grim, and Jaden could guess why.

"I've had three months experience as an Interim Agent. My IAM was attacked and killed two weeks ago," Olson said quietly. "I was injured, and I haven't been cleared for duty until tonight."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Jaden said, now understanding his withdrawn demeanor. "Who was your IAM?" She didn't remember ever seeing this young man before, not that he was all that young compared to her. Likely he was actually older than her, despite the fact that she outranked him.

"Senior Agent Martin Brenner," Olson replied somberly.

Jaden grimaced. "He was a good Agent," she said consolingly. "He was greatly admired, and I'm sad I didn't get to work with him more." She was lying. She was blessed in not having worked with him. Brenner had been notorious for being late, ill-equipped, and for invading the personal space of female Interim and Junior Agents. He was rumoured to have been drunk on the job more than once and he didn't know how to teach his trainees not to get killed. But saying such things would have been cruel, so Jaden lied to save the feelings of the grieving young man. Green's grim jerk of a nod in response to Jaden's comment showed that his feelings were similar to hers.

Things became awkwardly quiet. To make an escape, Green said suddenly, "I'll go see where we're all stationed. I'm pretty sure as my last IA, Jaden, you'll be placed with the two of us." With that, he walked away. Jaden sighed. She was likely to be with them. Traditionally, in the first few shifts that a new IA and IAM pair was made up, one of the IAM's former students would accompany, in order to provide moral support, as well as to learn about teaching new Agents the tricks of the trade. Normally she would have been very excited for it too, it was a great learning opportunity. Normally, however, her godmother wouldn't be in Level 3 Quarantine, it wouldn't be the week of Halloween, and she wouldn't be so distracted by the confusion of dark dreams. In addition, it seemed that the IA was an idiot, an opinion she formed when she noticed a bare patch of skin between his pants and his protective vest as he raised an arm to scratch the back of his head.

Quick as lightning, she flicked out her baton, and whacked him, first on the outer left thigh, then on the opposite hip. Olson cried out and stumbled back. "What the hell are you doing, crazy bitch?" he exclaimed, rubbing his thigh. Jaden hadn't hit him hard enough to bruise, but it still smarted fiercely.

Jaden glared at him. "That would have hurt a lot less if you were wearing your under-armour," she snapped. "Why aren't you wearing it?"

Olson rolled his eyes, "That shit has a forty-percent fail rate, and you know it," he retorted hotly. "It's barely worth it to wear it."

Jaden whacked him again, this time on the other hip, up and beneath his vest. When he cried out again and seized her baton, she jerked it roughly backwards, causing a small friction burn on the palm of his hand. "If it has a forty-percent fail rate, that means it works sixty-percent of the time. Besides, that's just a stupid rumour that the Day Shift came up with, so that they wouldn't have to wear it on hot days. I know that, to date, it has saved me from knives and tasers on dozens of occasions," she countered with as much venom. "So you are going to march back into the changing room and put it on, or we're not going out at all. Do you understand me?" Jaden was now standing within an inch of Olson, staring up at least eight inches into his red face, flushed with anger and embarrassment. He huffed and stalked off to the change rooms.

Green returned as Olson disappeared. "You know, Jaden," he said conversationally, "You're not supposed to hit the newbies." He had seen her strike him, but had been too far away to hear her chastise Olson.

Jaden glared hotly at Green. "The dumb-ass wasn't wearing under-armour," she snarled. "Stupid shit like that will get him killed, and you know it. I merely was proving my point."

Green didn't say anything until Olson returned. "You weren't wearing under-armour?" he asked the young man.

Olson flushed again. "Senior Agent Brenner never made me," he replied sullenly, shooting a hostile look at Jaden.

Green raised an eyebrow. "I always wear my under-armour," he said firmly, "as do all of my students. That's why I am alive, and possibly part of the reason why Senior Agent Benner is not. As your IAM, I am ordering you to never go out on shift unless you are wearing your under-armour. Is that understood, Interim Agent Olson?"

Green had been speaking in an undertone, standing close to Olson, so none of the Agents around them heard his dressing down. Olson looked furious and humiliated. "I understand, Senior Agent," Olson said through gritted teeth.

"Lovely," Green exclaimed, suddenly jovial, clapping Olson on the shoulder. "Now that that business is out of the way, let's get going. We're in Sector 12 tonight."

Olson was taken aback by Green's sudden mood change, but Jaden was unaffected. After two years with Green, his lightning fast mood changes were common-place to her. He was a happy-by-nature kind of person, unlike Jaden, who tended to brood. His style for disciplining his students was to be harsh, and then instantly revert back to his cheerful self. He also hadn't struck Jaden to prove a point. She felt badly suddenly for having assaulted Olson.

The three of them moved in silence to the shuttle dock, taking a transport to Sector 12. It was a quiet district of Venisa, well away from the borders of either of the Vampire controlled districts. It was an ideal place for training new Agents. As they were leaving the shuttle, with the crowd of other Agents in also assigned to Sector 12, Jaden pulled Olson aside.

"I'm sorry I hit you," she said abruptly. "It was inappropriate. I received some very bad news today, and I reacted without thinking. That does not excuse my behaviour though, and I apologize if I offended or hurt you." She said it sincerely, keeping eye contact. She had a grip on his bicep to keep him from turning away.

Olson softened slightly, the angered look fading from his eyes. "I understand," he said grimly. "We're all not ourselves these days. Thank you for apologizing." Jaden nodded and released his arm. He grinned half-heartedly. "You are fast, I'll give you that."

Jaden couldn't help but grin in return. "Why thank you," she said, with an elegant dip of her head.

They proceeded to the end of the ramp, where Green was waiting for them. "Everyone friends again?" he asked, looking from Korr to Olson, and back again. The two nodded, and Green grinned at them, "Good." He strode on, leaving the younger Agents to follow. "Have you worked much in Sector 12, Olson?" Green asked over his shoulder.

"No sir," Olson replied. "We were usually in Sectors 8, 15 and 16." That was League of Danall territory, though either not very deep in, or just inside the Agent's borders.

Green nodded, walking on, watching roof tops as they began their long night of walking the streets. "We, Korr and I, are usually in League of Nichelle territory. Sector 12 is a rarity for us as well. But variety is good. It keeps you on your toes," he said with a smile at the last part. "There won't be much action here, unless we're called elsewhere, or the Leagues get bold tonight."

"And that doesn't happen all that often," Jaden muttered sarcastically.

"What have I said about mumbling, Korr?" Green asked in a sing-song voice. He was deliberately being obtuse. Jaden rolled her eyes at the comment, Olson grinned. "Take note, Olson," he said loftily, "I can't stand muttering and mutterers. Makes me think that people are talking about me, and distracts me. If you're going to say something, say it loud enough for the class to hear. Right, Jaden?" Korr made a face at his back while Olson laughed. The semi-feud between the younger Agents was all but forgotten by the offended party. The three signed in at the sector command station and headed out into the night as the sun was fading behind the buildings and the Day Shift Agents began trickling in from their posts.

**_I'm hoping that 3 chapters right off the start will get you interested.  
Let me know what you think! _****_~Julianna_**


	4. Wake up

James awoke before the sun had set, as he often did. He woke with his mind whirling with thoughts and sifting through plans. At his age, sleep wasn't necessary, it was merely a tool to pass time. The hour was approaching when he could exact revenge on his rival within the League, dealing damage to The Organization in the same fell swoop. He rolled from the bed, disregarding his sleeping bedmate. Stripping his clothes and dropping them uncaringly on the floor, he stepped into the shower, letting the hot water blast his face, waking him further.

When finished his ablutions, he toweled off, pausing to check his appearance in the mirror. His blue eyes were icy, hardened from an unkind life. His dark, straight hair was wet and messy, but would flatten when it was dry. His muscled body was scarred, which made him all the more intimidating. He had avoided any obvious ones to his face, but there was an impressive scar at the junction between his shoulder and neck, if one got close enough to see it. Such a thing was inadvisable though. Only his lovers saw the scar, and they all learned not to comment upon it. His skin had become pale from being away from the sun so long, but it retained a tinge of its olive tones, allowing him a less deathly complexion. He was especially handsome when he smiled. He didn't often smile anymore, and when he did, it was seldom in mirth. James had become hard-hearted and, at times, a cruel man, since becoming a Vampire. His transition to this life had been torturous and devastating, making him ruthless and pitiless. He had once been a kind man, but he was no longer that man.

James was one of the most powerful men in Venisa. He was right hand to the leader of the League of Nichelle within the city. He, along with his Master, were the most recognizable Vampires in the League. Despite this, The Organization still had not discovered his surname nor his exact age. His picture was shown to all children studying to become Agents when they learned about the League of Nichelle. They sometimes referred to him as the Butcher of Nichelle. James organized kidnappings, interrogations, raids, assaults and assassinations. If someone was killed by the League, it was likely that he had a hand in it. His latest project would deal a blow to a rival who had been a thorn in his side for far too long. The timeline was a little more rushed than he would have liked, but things were almost entirely in place when the last piece of information was pulled from Karla Dawson.

James hung his wet towel over the shower stall before walking nude back into the bedroom. His bedmate, a pretty, blonde Faithful whose performance had been lacklustre, had rolled over in her sleep, exposing a small, perky breast. James ground his teeth in annoyance. He disliked watching humans sleep. He disliked the restrictions that the Faithful Code enacted, prohibiting him from feeding on a Faithful without explicit permission. He already knew from experience that tasting the wine while the bottle was asleep would be frowned upon. Not even he was above the Faithful Code. Despite being an annoyance, the Code did prevent the humans from having a good reason to try to revolt or devise daytime mishaps for their superiors.

James was just finishing dressing when the door opened and his progeny, Vanessa, slipped into the dark room. James hadn't bothered with the lights. Vampires saw perfectly well in the dark. He had left the lights off so he wouldn't wake his bedmate. This wasn't through any sort of sentiment. He didn't want to listen to the bitching that often ensued when humans were prematurely awoken. Vanessa, however, less than subtly enjoyed harassing the humans who worked for the League. She would leave bloody messes to be cleaned up, as good as force them into bed with her, set them to demeaning or menial tasks for no reason, and, best of all, she loved disrupting their sleep. Thus, she flicked on the main light switch to the room, and yanked on the pillow under the blonde human's head, jerking it violently enough that the girl tumbled to the floor.

"Good evening sunshine," Vanessa sneered, exposing her sharp, white fangs. The human's eyes widened like saucers and she squealed as she scrambled to cover her nakedness. Vanessa laughed mockingly, James just rolled his eyes.

"Good evening to you as well, Vanessa," James said, doing up the last buttons on his shirt. He opened the bedroom door and waved her through to the sitting room. Vanessa grinned as she walked past. Addressing the Faithful, James said, "You are free to go, I won't be requiring your services later." The blonde mutely nodded and began gathering her clothes, failing to keep the hurt from her expression. James rolled his eyes again and exited the bedroom.

Vanessa had sprawled across his couch and was examining her nails. "You know," she commented, loud enough that the dressing human could hear her perfectly, "the League is going to run out of Faithfuls to fuck if you don't actually make up your mind on a new one. Most of the boys don't like having your sloppy seconds."

James raised an eyebrow. "If _the boys_ have a problem," he said derisively, "they can address it with me." He nudged Vanessa's feet out of the way as he sat on the couch beside her. As he settled into a comfortable position he inquired, "How is our little project coming along?"

Vanessa addressed her nails when she replied in a pleased tone, "All according to plan. The pieces are in motion and should be in play within the next few hours. We have confirmation from sources in the field and the asset has already moved into position." She looked up from her nails. "There certainly is a lot of trouble going into stabbing a rival in the back," she mused. "I certainly hope that when this is all over, I don't get heaped with the blame for your dirty-work."

James grinned at her, a cold and predatory smile. "Vanessa," he asked in honeyed tones, "have I ever led you astray?"

Vanessa snorted. "Only since the day I met you," she retorted in good humour. "I'm going to keep Andrew out of the adventures of this evening, if you don't mind. I like him too much to risk in this operation."

James nodded. "That's fine," he replied. "The boy is coming along nicely. He'll likely be of some use in the later stages of this business." He rose to his feet, offering Vanessa a hand up. "Come my dear, let us see if we can't teach your boy something while we wait for messages from the field."

* * *

It was three hours after sunset and the streets were quiet. Green, Olson and Korr had left their patrol vehicle to investigate a disturbance call in a park. It was eerie walking around the abandoned playground, the swings creaking slightly in the mild breeze. The playground and basketball hoop were somewhat relics of another time, because there were barely any children left in this part of the city. Being an area that was constantly changing hands between the city's two Vampire Leagues and The Organization, families had moved out and moved on from the area. Sector 12 had been in Organization control for a little more than six weeks now, and was well inside their area of control. The only people who lived in the area now were either too poor or too stupid to leave. Rumour was that some of the drug cartels were gaining leverage over the area, to use it as manufacturing areas. If it wasn't one evil, it was another. Even in a time were a citizen's most likely cause of death was an attack by a Vampire, there was a flourishing underground world of drugs and prostitution that plagued the city. There was strong evidence that the cartels had insiders in the Organization and the Leagues. Jaden found the humans who traded in corrupting and impoverishing other people disgusting.

The disturbance call had been vague, which meant it was likely something serious or a trap. The neighbours of this park were seldom inclined to call the Organization for help, so it was telling when they did. As the three Agents silently searched the park, there was a loud burst of gunfire from one of the nearby streets. Responding to a hand signal from Green, the two more junior Agents converged to his side.

"We're going to stay nice and quiet," Green told them softly, "And we're going to go take a look. Carefully," he added. He pulled his pistol from its holster, and flicked a switch to activate his sunburst, still strapped to his hip. Korr and Olson mimicked him.

Jaden glanced at Olson and saw that he was sweating. She caught his eye and gave him a grim but reassuring smile. She trusted Green with her life. He had led her through far worse situations than a little gunfire close by. The three of them set off towards the source of the gunfire, keeping to the shadows in a straight line, Green in front, Korr at the rear.

When they reached the edge of the building on the corner of the street, they halted and Green drew night vision binoculars from his utility belt. He peered down the dark street, then drew back from the edge. Softly he told them what he'd seen. "There is a body in the road, not moving. I can't tell if they're alive or not, but a Vampire wouldn't stay down like that, especially with us so close."

"Not even if he was hurt?" Olson asked, his voice he tried to keep soft, but it was much louder than Green's had been. The young man had yet to perfect the proper pitch at which to speak when in the streets. His voice didn't carry, but it made Jaden nervous. Green shook his head, motioning him to speak quieter.

"Especially if seriously injured, a Vampire wouldn't be able to control the Thirst with us so near," Korr explained, keeping her voice as soft as Green's had been. "If that's a vampire, they'd at least be twitching and howling to reach us. Likely it's a dead body." Her eyes flicked towards the street. "But one of us is going to have to check, aren't we?" she asked Green.

He nodded grimly. "Nick and I will cover you, Jaden," he said, checking the safety on his pistol before screwing on a silencer. Jaden nodded and loosened the straps restraining all her weapons. In a pinch, she didn't want anything getting caught on her belt. Green watched her take her inventory and asked, "Ready?" Jaden nodded again and drew a big breath, slipping around the side of the building, into the abandoned street.

Her footfalls were nearly silent as she eased her way down the block, a skilled honed over years of practice. She kept her eyes in motion between the street, windows and doorways she passed. She kept to shadows as much as she could, leaving them only when she was level with the body in the middle of the street. The whole time, the body had not moved. Praying that she wasn't walking into a sniper's gallery, she approached the body.

She first prodded it with her baton, having flicked it out as she approached. She kept her pistol trained at the body's chest. There was no reaction. Using her foot she rolled it, and made a face at the damage the gunshots had inflicted. The man's face, for she could now somewhat see it was a man, had been nearly obliterated, likely from the exit wound of a high-caliber bullet. She jerked back when she heard the loud _chunk_ then hiss of a gas canister hitting the pavement beside the body. Nearly instantly a cloud of white gas began surrounding her as a second canister landed at her feet. For a few seconds she fumbled for her gas mask, then her body was wracked with spasms and she fell to the ground, fighting to keep conscious despite the agony. Before the haze of white around her faded into the black of unconsciousness, she heard Green yelling and felt hands roughly grabbing her as lightning filled her veins, attempting to rip its way out of her skin.


End file.
